4.28.10

4.27.10

I keep making these circular shapes but I'm not quite sure why.

A few weeks ago I went to a local greenhouse to look for plants to put in our upcoming exhibit at the museum. I can't seem to go to a greenhouse without buying something, and drove away with a fig tree. It was raining and I noticed that the leaves pressed against the windows fogged the glass, like children on a school bus. The tree is now in my living room, and has three green fruits. They are hard and are not real figs yet. I read that you can rub them with olive oil and that makes them ripen more quickly. Patience is a virtue I'm trying to exercise. Not just with my fig tree, but in general.

4.26.10

This will be a painting soon. Right now it's sketched and waiting for me on my kitchen table. The trees are half-awake with these little green fists of buds. Spring is miraculous: the first rain that smells like warm pavement, those startlingly yellow forsythia bushes, sleeping with the windows open. My mom is coming to visit on Thursday! Everything is waking up, even in Maine.

4.25.10

Today marks the first day of the rest of my blog. What would somebody say to that in 1912? A dear friend of mine asked me whether or not I had images of my work on the internet, which prompted me to realize it was time to start posting some of my paintings, lists, snapshots, and what have you. My goal is this: to post an image of something every day. Make it part of a regimen, like flossing or combing my hair. Except that I rarely comb my hair. Well, I can work on that just like I can work on this. Here is a newly finished painting of some cherry blossoms -- the trees were loaded with them last week, but now their petals mostly fill the gutters like confetti from yesterday's parade. Gut-wrenchingly beautiful in its own quiet way. I think I am going to start a series of paintings about looking up. There is a lot to be missed way up there.